After a few minutes the entire tub was a frozen block. Mike lowered his arm and observed his handiwork, knowing he would have to do it ten more times before Garzan would be satisfied. “Is that why the Calebra – is that what it’s called – looked so weird? Like it had been torn apart and re-sewn.”
Garzan nodded. “It is a terrible thing, to insert power into something that cannot hold it. The Calebra that attacked you was merely a victim. Its death ended its suffering.”
“Do they always hate us?” Mike asked. “Like, there’s always been constant war going on?”
“There are peaks and lulls in the fighting, no doubt,” the Headmage allowed. “Usually when some powerful magician rounds up whatever Brethren he can and builds an army.”
“And that’s what’s going on now? Somebody’s leading them?”
The Headmage didn’t answer.
“And what about the Slayers? Where does their magic come from?”
Garzan’s expression was stoic. Then he blinked, as if driving away a bad dream. He stepped away for a moment, hands on hips.
“Sir?”
The Headmage put a finger to his lips. He reached inside his karategi, and Mike saw him touch his Amp. Then he turned to Mike.
“I must apologize, but we are needed elsewhere. Go shower, change, and meet me in my office in fifteen minutes.”
And just like that, the lesson was over.
Chapter Eighteen
When Mike arrived at Garzan’s office, the door was open and the lights were on, but the place was empty. Mike knocked on the door anyway – one of the things his mother had always taught him, it was just good manners – then stood next to one of the bookshelves.
The Headmage’s office was totally different than Stockton’s, and actually pretty nice, now that Mike didn’t have a gargoyle threatening him with a sword. A blank canvas was pulled down over the eastern wall, hiding what looked like a map of the world. Several letters were arranged in a pile on the desk, along with quills that Mike thought to be impractical. The walls held columns and columns of stocked bookshelves. As if the library didn’t have enough already.
Suddenly, Mike heard people coming from the hallway. The Headmage strode in, followed by four students: Zachariah, Steph, and two girls Mike didn’t know.
Zachariah snorted. “Wait, what is he doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, pal,” Mike muttered. For some reason he went over to stand next to Steph, whose hair was damp as if she had just showered. Water trickled down her shoulder blades and through a black tank top. Mike smelled Herbal Essences. Fruit Fusions. The purple one.
His throat went dry.
Laura had been obsessed with the stuff.
“Sit down, all of you,” Garzan said, ignoring Zachariah’s remark. He made a motion with his wrist, and five chairs appeared from out of nowhere.
Mike jumped.
Then his cheeks went hot. Got to get used to that, Mike thought as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to look cool and composed.
“Nothing said in here may make its way out of this room, am I understood?”
Mike sat straight. Well. That’s one way to get everybody’s attention.
“Good. Because of the recent attack on Windham, we have been forced into action.” The Headmage sat in the recliner chair behind his desk and pulled out what looked like a remote control.
Garzan clicked the remote at the blank screen that was covering the map. All of a sudden, a man’s picture appeared. He was Professor-X-bald, with beady, dark eyes. He wore a tan raincoat, flaps up, hiding part of his face. Mike noticed a scar running across his cheek.
“Jeremiah Trottingwood, of New York City. Makes a living as a licensed weapons dealer, although he is known to commission some unlicensed materials as well.”
Unlicensed materials… Somehow Mike didn’t think Garzan was talking about guns and stuff.
“Some would have him linked to the Black Brethren. What I want you to do is trail him for this evening. Our older students have been doing a good job of tracking his whereabouts, but we need fresh eyes, fresh faces. Spread out and track Mr. Trottingwood from his home tonight – he’s supposed to make some sort of delivery at midnight in Central Park. Follow him there, stay out of sight. Get pictures of what he’s selling and who he’s selling it to.”
Mike had no idea how to do this, but the other two girls he didn’t know were nodding their heads. Espionage majors, probably. But something was off about the whole thing. If they were just doing reconnaissance, what did they need Mike and Zachariah for—
Wait.
Did Garzan just say Central Park?
The image of Jeremiah Trottingwood disappeared. “For this mission, you will be accompanied by two gargoyles. They are not awake yet, but do not fear, they will make it to New York long before you do.”
Mike spaced out for a second. He was going to New York City… which meant they would be driving through, or close to, the borough known as Queens…
“You will communicate with these.” Garzan pulled out a drawer in his desk and removed two necklaces, exact copies of the one that he wore.
“These are called Amps. Mister Prior, Mister Zucker—” Mike snapped back to attention when he heard his name — “You are the team leaders.” Garzan handed a necklace to each of them. Zachariah accepted his eagerly, like a kid who’d gotten his Christmas present a week too early. Mike slipped his over his head, the wheels in his mind turning, trying to formulate some sort of plan.
Garzan seemed not to notice. “To use them, just think of who you’d like to contact, and touch the stone.” The Headmage demonstrated by pressing his index finger and thumb around the turquoise rock.
Instantly, the stone lit up, and Mike heard a voice in his head.
You are the strongest, Michael. Be careful. They are under your protection.
Mike started. Had Garzan figured out what he was planning to do? Or was he just warning him about something else that could go wrong…
He waited for more details, but the Headmage was not forthcoming. Instead, Garzan said, “Go change into something dark, something normal. And please, don’t mention any of this to your friends.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys.
“Does anyone here have a driver’s license?”
Mike grunted. His mom had given him driving lessons since he was thirteen, in case “they had to make a quick getaway” and she couldn’t drive. He could handle any car without a problem, even a stick, but somehow he didn’t think that counted.
Zachariah and one of the other girls raised their hands. Garzan said, “Who is older?”
“April,” said the girl.
“February,” said Zachariah, a gleam in his eye.
“The A6,” Garzan said. “And don’t get pulled over.” Garzan tossed the keys to Zachariah, who grasped them like they were the keys to his jail cell.
Garzan said something about “be careful” and “good luck,” but Mike barely heard him. The only thing he could think about was figuring out how this would go down.
Because he was hijacking this mission.
So he could go see his girlfriend.
Chapter Nineteen
Three hours later, the Audi pulled into a parking spot across the street from the Trottingwood residence. He lived right on Fifth Avenue, opposite Central Park, between 94th and 95th street. It was after 11:00 pm, so the streets weren’t busy. Of course, being New York City, it was active enough for the car to look normal, but Mike was still fidgety. The drive had been incredibly awkward, and all he wanted to do was get out of the car, get done with the job, and get on to Laura’s house. No matter how late it might be.
He went over the plan in his head. It didn’t make sense for him to bail on them before the mission. First of all, he wasn’t into abandoning his friends, especially if there might be some sort of trouble. Not that Zachariah was a friend, but whatever – he couldn’t leave the three girls. Second, and more importantly, Mike was sure Z
achariah would tell Garzan right away if he bailed. Which could lead to huge problems.
So it had to wait for the ride back. He’d brought what little money he had with him on the trip, and Mike figured he’d grab a Metrocard, jump on the subway, and deal with getting back to Windham afterwards. Yes, the last time he’d left, he’d almost gotten blown to smithereens, but that’d been right outside Windham. Somehow Mike didn’t think the Brethren were that good, to trace him over a hundred miles from Windham and ambush him in the subway.
At least, he hoped they weren’t.
A bald thirty-something male exited the apartment in question. He wore navy spandex and a yellow biking helmet, and moved to unchain a bike that was tied to construction scaffolding.
“I got him.” Brandi, as one of the espionage majors had introduced herself, pulled out a small capsule from her jeans pocket. Mike recognized it as a homing device from his Magical Detection class.
“Is that a good idea?” Mike wondered aloud. “I mean, if he deals with the Brethren, maybe he knows a little magic?”
“Yeah, but how else are we going to track him?” Zachariah stuck his face in. “He bikes faster than we run. We can’t exactly drive this thing into Central Park.”
“Well, decide fast,” Steph said. “He’s about to go.”
Mike grimaced, but in truth, he knew he was stuck. He couldn’t think of another idea to track Trottingwood, and if he escaped, the whole mission would be a waste. Besides, if Trottingwood could detect magic, worst case scenario they would get out of there.
“Fine, do it.”
Brandi got out of the car and threw the pellet into the air. She mumbled a few words under her breath. The homing device flew straight for Trottingwood’s bicycle, attaching itself to the back of his seat.
“Nice,” Mike muttered. “How do you track it?”
Brandi stuck her palm through the open window. It was illuminated with a map of the city. A little red dot traveled along it.
“That is wicked cool,” Zachariah said from over Mike’s shoulder.
Mike said, “Come on, get in. We’ll follow him in this thing as far as we can.” He patted the car’s exterior, and Brandi jumped back inside.
Trottingwood biked for almost thirty blocks. When he finally turned off Fifth Avenue, he turned past some horses and carriages on the side of the road and pulled onto a paved bike path that led into the park. Zachariah stowed the car a block away.
“You have one of those things on your hand, too?” Mike asked Marie Lu, the other espionage major.
She nodded, showing her palm.
“Good. You and Steph, come with me. Zachariah, you take Brandi and spread out in the other direction.”
“Hey, why do you get the healer?” Zachariah complained.
Mike bit his tongue. I’m going to turn this kid over to Trottingwood if he argues with me one more time. Still, he just wanted to get the mission done with. “Fine. Steph, go with Zachariah.”
Steph frowned, then got out of the car with an annoyed look on her face.
Oh, give me a break, Mike thought as he and Marie Lu headed for the bike path into the park. Don’t you start giving me crap for this, too. He didn’t even want to be here right now.
After a few minutes, the dot on Marie Lu’s palm slowed down. Trottingwood had stopped over by a lake. His bike was set against a lamppost, and he was sitting on one of the benches. If Trottingwood had detected the homing device on his bike, he didn’t act like it.
Nice to see you actually showed up, a voice said in Mike’s head. It’s Yaris, by the way, if you don’t remember. From outside the Headmage’s office.
Like I could ever forget, Mike thought in response. All things being equal, I’m glad you’re on our side.
Just don’t turn on us and everything will be fine.
Mike scowled as the necklace went dark. Why did everything have to be about Rafael?
Marie Lu, meanwhile, was busy setting up shop. She sent out four more capsules, each attached to a tree with a different vantage point of Trottingwood’s location. They were cameras, she explained, and they were the key to the whole mission. If they needed to, the Guardians could get out of there without any trouble and come back to retrieve the tiny medicinal-looking pellets at any time.
As soon as they were set up, Marie Lu hurried over to Mike. “Let’s get farther back. We can watch the show from anywhere.” They chose a patch of grass that was out of sight and sat down.
Both Guardians lay on the dirt, propped up on their elbows. Marie Lu made a squared motion with her index fingers, and instantly a screen appeared out of nowhere, split into fours, glistening in the black of the night. Mike marveled at the magic. They were pretty much out of sight, but even if someone did see them, they would be written off as two teenagers watching a movie on a tablet.
Each of the screens was a different camera angle, and Mike had to admit, the area was pretty well covered. Trottingwood sat impatiently, tapping one leg over the other, head constantly swiveling in either direction.
“Check it out.” Marie Lu pointed at the screen.
Trottingwood had stood up. He raised his arm over his head, as if he was saluting some dictator or something. Then the lampposts surrounding his position went dark simultaneously.
“Somebody doesn’t want to be seen,” Mike muttered.
It was harder to distinguish between the shadows now. Mike could still see Trottingwood clearly, but it was difficult to make out any other definitive objects. A bush ruffled, but Mike didn’t think—
No, there was a person there, hiding some ten or twenty feet behind Trottingwood’s position, watching him like a cat eyeing a pigeon. Mike squinted, trying to make out a face. The build was extremely familiar—
What is the Zucker kid doing? Yaris’s voice was frantic. I tried to speak to him, but he didn’t answer! He has an Amp, right?
Mike gasped.
The person behind the bush was Zachariah.
Mike touched his necklace. Zachariah, what the hell are you doing?
There was no response.
Zachariah!
I’m getting closer to the action, what does it look like I’m doing?
Get out of there you idiot, Marie Lu and Brandi have cameras all over this place. We came for surveillance only!
Yeah, I couldn’t see a thing on that projection of hers. I needed a closer look.
Mike couldn’t believe this was happening. Zachariah was out of his mind to get so close to Trottingwood. What if Trottingwood saw him? Mike didn’t know how fast he could get there, or if he would be able to help at all. What if the Black Brethren were involved? Could Mike slow them down while Zachariah got away? Would any of them be able to get away?
Get out of there, Zachariah, the videos are for Garzan and Stockton, not us!
Mike was watching him on the screen, screaming in his mind for him to return. But Zachariah did not acknowledge him at all.
Suddenly, several figures appeared out of the trees some fifty yards away, at the far end of one of Marie Lu’s cameras. They walked purposefully towards Trottingwood, who noticed them and clearly relaxed his shoulders. Marie Lu twirled her fingers, and the video screen zoomed in with the fourth, most-accurately-placed camera.
The leader of the group grabbed Trottingwood’s hand and shook it vigorously. Trottingwood pulled out a small bag from his knapsack and presented it to his guests, who numbered nine in all. It was impossible to make out any features in the moonlight, but they were all tall and sturdy.
“Is there audio on this thing?” Mike asked.
“Give me a minute,” Marie Lu said, her forehead wrinkled. “I thought I configured it right.” She muttered a few charms and waved a finger back and forth. Then she touched Mike’s ear, and voices filled his head.
“There is only one?” the leader of the pack was saying, holding the package up to examine it. “Dementae will be displeased.”
Dementae? Mike mouthed to Marie Lu. She raised her palms as if
to say, I have no idea.
“Yeah, well, if he knew what it took to get it, he’d be happy with only one.” It was Trottingwood’s voice; a squeaky, high-pitched, nervous tone. Not how Mike expected him to sound.
Mike squinted at the leader, as the camera had the best shot at his face. Was he a vampire? Black Brethren? A Slayer? Mike didn’t even know what a Slayer was, but he could guess. What did any of them look like? He assumed a vampire would have some sort of fangs coming out of his mouth, but then again, that was Hollywood talking…
The leader handed the bag behind him, and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it quickly and took a long drag. “One will suffice, Trottingwood. But do not disobey him again.”
“Yes, Sylvan.” Trottingwood wiped his brow with the back of his palm.
All of a sudden, Mike heard a ruffling noise, like someone was digging in the bushes to retrieve a lost item. The sound was not next to him, but coming from the magic in his ear. Mike was filled with a terrible sense of dread.
“Get us back to the other cameras. Quick!”
Marie Lu twirled her arms desperately, and the four screens appeared once again. In the lower left, Mike saw a struggle near the bush where Zachariah had been.
Then he saw two figures lift a body out from behind the shrubbery. They walked over towards the meeting party, holding Zachariah’s arms behind him like he was going to the gallows.
“Let’s go!” Mike jumped up and broke into a sprint towards the lake. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he had to save Zachariah. Even if he didn’t know who he was saving him from. Mike still had Marie Lu’s spell in his ears, so he listened intently as he ran. The lake was way too far… it was so dumb to have been so far back… but then again, he never thought he’d have to run right into the thick of things…
“What do we have here?” It was Sylvan’s voice.
“Some kid, hiding in the bushes.” Another voice, one that Mike didn’t recognize. “You think he’s a Slayer?”
“Nah, they’re not that stupid.” Then there was a pause, then Mike heard the smack of fist on flesh and the sound of air whooshing out of Zachariah’s mouth.
The Guardian Lineage Page 11
